


Worthy Love

by Heronfem



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: 5+1 Things, Declarations Of Love, Dragon Age Kink Meme, Idiots in Love, M/M, Pining, Self-Acceptance, an unfortunate lack of smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-17 01:34:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10583655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heronfem/pseuds/Heronfem
Summary: Kaaris Adaar learns to love himself, pines a lot, and gets the guy.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Nbd, it's only been a YEAR since I started this.
> 
> Prompted by an anon on the kink meme, link here: http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/16181.html?thread=62267701

Adaar was not beautiful.

He knew this. It was blatantly obvious. He didn't fit the standard form for “handsome”, or “charming”, or even “cute”. How could he, with scars stretching across his face from lighting, broken horns in two different sizes, scruffy untamed hair, nicked ears, and a hulking, uncomfortable body? He was built odd, broad in the shoulders and hips and narrow everywhere else, awkwardly shaped and a lumbering bulk. He had always tried to hunch in on himself, doing his best to seem smaller than he was, but that was always hard to do when he was almost the size of The Iron Bull.

He kept no mirrors for a reason, and quietly hated it when people stared. And they always stared. How could they not?

Dorian was beautiful.

Dorian was glamour and art and sophistication all rolled into one, and Adaar wished that he could so much as hold his hand. But Dorian deserved much better than a two-hand warrior who looked like Adaar did. He deserved a man as beautiful as he was, someone he could show off and be proud of. Every time they stood together he went tongue tied, awed by his beauty and confidence, and knew that they would never be together. Dorian couldn't possibly want someone like him. Dorian didn't deserve someone like him. Dorian deserved so much better.

oOo

Saying he took the Bull to bed was probably a lie. The Bull took him to bed, certainly, and Adaar let himself sink into the mattress as the Bull worked him over, slow and soft and careful, the exact opposite of his usual self, and by the time they were getting down to business Adaar certainly felt relaxed and happier than he had in weeks. Bull tied a blindfold to Adaar's head, and Adaar breathed out a quiet sigh of relief, only to flinch guiltily. Bull paused, then resumed his work industriously tying him down.

“It's okay,” the Bull rumbled, running his hands down Adaar's sides. “I get it, believe me.”

“I'm sorry,” Adaar said, and the Bull chuckled, kissing his scars.

“You're not the first to escape with me, and you won't be the last,” he said, not unkindly. “Go ahead, think about him, it's all right. Just relax.”

Adaar sank into fantasy, and came with Dorian's name on his lips. Bull held him after, pressing soft kisses to his hair, and Adaar clung to him like a grapevine.

“It's not fair,” Adaar said after a bit, resting his head on Bull's chest. “That I said his name, I mean.”

Bull raised an eyebrow, and Adaar looked at him with a bit of a smile.

“Once more, with feeling?”

“ _Fuck_ yeah,” Bull said enthusiastically, and Adaar laughed as he was tossed onto his back.

oOo

Of all people, he took Rylen to bed next. He liked the tattoos, and Rylen looked him in the eyes when they spoke. He never cringed away from the scars, and for that alone Adaar would have tumbled him. They'd been in the Western Approach for a week, using the fortress as a base. Dorian had sat by him at the fire and they'd talked for hours before Dorian all but fell asleep on his shoulder, and Adaar went to Rylen.

Rylen had one of the few rooms in the Keep, and his bed was sturdy enough for a dragon. The door closed, and he was on him, pushing Adaar against it and kissing him hard. Adaar groaned, wrapping his arms around him, and let himself be dragged to bed. Rylen liked it rough, fast, and with a hint of kindness. Adaar thought of Dorian the entire time, somewhat guiltily, and dug his claws into Rylen's hips as he came with a shout. They both had different names on their lips, and smiled ruefully at each other after.

Rylen made him stay, revealing cake, and they sat together on the bed.

“So,” Rylen said cheerfully, spearing a piece of his cake, “the mage, yeah?”

“That's right,” Adaar said, sighing. “He's so far out of my league it's sad. I mean,” he gestured at his face, “this alone would be enough to put most people off of me, never mind the horns and the rest.”

“S'bullshit,” Rylen said, stabbing the fork at him. “Seriously. You're a rugged an' appealing man, Adaar. And the lightning scars are impressive. Better than tattoos, I'll tell you that.” 

Adaar felt the scars, a little surprised. “You think so?”

“What, you _wouldn't_ fuck a man who got struck by natures most powerful brute force and survived it?”

“...You have a point.” Adaar smiled, feeling a spark of pride. “I'd never thought of it like that.” He took another bite of his cake before looking slyly over and saying, “So. Krem, yeah?”

Rylen groaned, burying his face in his hands, and Adaar laughed in delight.

oOo

Dorian came with them to Emprise du Lion, and Adaar realized his mistake as soon as he had made it.

“I'm so sorry,” he said for the fiftieth time, taking his cloak off and wrapping it around Dorian. It was heavy and fur lined, rich blue fabric trimmed with soft fluff. Dorian looked glorious in it, as he did everything, and Adaar carefully latched the elegant wolfs head clasps. “I didn't even think about the cold, I'm so sorry.”

His hands lingered on Dorian's shoulders, and Dorian swayed into him.

“It's fine,” he said with a smile, looking up at him, and Adaar's heart swooped a little bit. “Really, I'm fine.” His hand emerged from the cloak, gently pressing over Adaar's heart. “You're always so worried about me, it's very touching. I'll be alright, Adaar, I promise. Thank you for loaning me your cloak.”

“Tell me if you get too cold,” Adaar insisted, unable to resist sliding his hand around the back of Dorian's neck. Dorian leaned into him, looking up at him with a soft, fond smile. _Just friends_ , Adaar reminded himself. _That's all we are._ “You're from such a different climate, I don't want you to overdo it if you're not adjusted to it.”

“Far too kind,” Dorian said, and smiled sweetly up at him. “Thank you, Adaar.”

Adaar's face went hot, turned slightly mauve, and he rubbed a hand against the back of his neck. “Of course.”

oOo

Also in the Emprise was one Michel de Chevin.

Adaar hated to admit it, but he was definitely a sucker for semi-tragic hero types.

Michel was a bit like Bull, and a bit like Rylen. They fucked wildly, but with tender kisses interspersed. It was good, they kissed lazily after, and Adaar tried not think of anything further about it.

oOo

Adaar looked in the mirror without flinching out of sheer will, and gently touched a hand to his cheek. His scars were sharp, nothing could be done about those. But perhaps he could have his horns fixed. They could be filed to level flats and tipped like some of the others wore, and he could perhaps even put little gems on the metal. Dorian did very much like shiny things. He touched the broken horns, frowning and turning his head left and right to look at them closer. Perhaps he could shave off his hair? It was patchy and stringy, odd for a Qunari. The Iron Bull would be able to tell him how, or Vivienne. He was fairly certain that Solas had never had hair in his life.

He touched his ears, looking at the nicks, and wondered if he could perhaps do something about the cuts in them. 

Josephine walked up the stairs, looking at him in surprise. “I believe this is the first I've seen you before the mirror.”

“I was wondering what I could fix about myself,” he admitted, slumping a little.

Josephine frowned, walking to his side and scrutinizing the mirror. “I believe you have a defective mirror,” she announced. “There is nothing to fix.”

Adaar grinned, ducking his head. “Would you help me, though? I want to stop looking quite so... well, like me. I'm not exactly pretty.”

Josephine touched his arm, her face somber. “Adaar, never change who you are for someone else,” she said firmly. “I have gone that road and it is not a pleasant place. If you want to change your looks for yourself, that is all well and good, but never change for anyone else. Not even me.”

Adaar lifted his head, looking back into the mirror. He touched his horns gently, biting his lip. “I lost them when I was about 17,” he admitted. “There were bandits who had heard that Qunari horns were fetching a price as display pieces. They tried to hack them off. I...I miss them, sometimes. And when I was hit by lightning, some of my hair stopped growing all together. Could you help me with those? And... and maybe some clothes for when I'm not being the Inquisitor?”

Josephine smiled, and pulled him down to kiss his cheek. He blushed hotly, and she squeezed his arm.

“It would be my pleasure, Kaaris.”

oOo

Head shaved, horns with caps, ears pierced to hide the nicks, and forced into clothes rigid enough to keep him upright, Adaar cautiously strolled through Skyhold and did his level best not to flush all the time. The change wasn't enough to make him feel handsome, but it did make him feel more like himself, a whole and unique person and not just the Inquisitor or a nameless merc. The Iron Bull whistled as he walked over to the practice ring, and Adaar blushed.

“Look at you,” Bull said, leaning on the fence. The Chargers gathered around, making approving noises. “All dressed up and shiny. I like it.”

Adaar touched his new horn caps, which arched up elegantly. “This is what they used to look like,” he said. “Madame Vivienne did the clothes, and Josephine helped me with the rest. It's strange, but I feel a little more comfortable in my skin now.”

Bull nodded approvingly. “Good to see you more confident. You should go talk to Dorian.”

“What?” Adaar felt his eyes go wide. “But-”

“But nothing. Go see him, he'll want to fawn over you.”

Adaar brushed down his clothes, feeling his face heat up. “You're sure?” 

Krem leaned on the fence next to Bull, grinning wickedly. “Knock 'em dead.”

Adaar ran a hand over his head, unable to hide his smile, and walked off to the hoots and whistles of the others. 

The library was quiet, the patrons going about their business of the day with minimal noise. Above, even Leliana's crows were being quiet for once, and Solas gave him a rare smile from where he was working on the murals. Adaar gave him a tentative smile in response before slowly walking up the stairs and onto the next level. Dorian was tucked away in his chair, snoozing in the sunlight, and Adaar smiled at the sight of him. He took the blanket from where it had been thrown over one of the table chairs and tucked it around him, gently easing the book away and marking Dorian's place. 

He gently brushed one of Dorian's curls back into place, his heart swelling with hopeless fondness.

A soft shush of feet came from behind him, and he turned to see the little librarian come up, smiling. Isa led him away to an area away from where Dorian slept, and Adaar smiled at the fond look on his face.

“This happens a lot, I take it.”

Isa sighed, but he was smiling. “He pushes himself hard, Lord Dorian. I'm proud to have him here. And he keeps fixing the shelving issues, so he's quite useful as well. I like him a great deal. He's like the annoying _da'len_ I never had, in all the best ways. Not a brother or a child, just a friend that keeps hounding me to get more books that only he will read.”

The image was particularly hilarious, because Isa was barely 22 to Dorian's 30, and Adaar stifled a laugh.

Isa ducked his head, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear, and looked up shyly through his lashes. “And, ser, you... It's good to see you smiling. You look very happy these days.”

“Thank you,” Adaar said, suddenly bashful. “I'm feeling a little more myself. Would you walk with me? I'd like to ask you about some additions to the library.”

oOo

Adaar took him in the garden that evening, when everyone else was asleep, and both of them said Dorian's name and turned bright red before laughing.

They drank tea in the library after, and Isa gave him a chaste, sweet kiss before going off to reorganize the herbalism section and Adaar walked off towards the Great Hall. He felt lighter, more comfortable, and had found a friend in Isa. He whistled as he walked through the empty hall, pausing in surprise when he saw Dorian standing at the foot of that awful throne and looking up at the windows.

“Dorian?”

Dorian turned, and Adaar started. His face was wet, and he quickly brushed away a few tears. Adaar hurried to his side, squeezing his shoulder as he looked him over. “Dorian, what's wrong? Are you hurt?”

“Oh, no,” Dorian laughed wetly, wiping at his eyes again. “No, I'm not hurt. I- I was simply thinking. I don't mean to bother you, Adaar-”

“Kaaris,” Adaar said, swallowing hard. “My name. My name is Kaaris.”

Dorian looked thunderstruck. “What?”

“I go by Adaar like Bull. Adaar is a type of weapon, it's a nickname that my company gave me. Kaaris is my real name.” He swallowed hard, reaching up to gently brush away the remains of the tears. “I would like it if you'd call me that, when we're talking. Only Josephine and Leliana know it.”

Dorian caught his hand, and Adaar was dazzled by the light coming through the windows, staining his cheeks with rich blue light. The moons were high, beaming through the windows and turning him into a statue of bronze.

“I would like that,” Dorian said softly. “I would like that very much, Kaaris.”

Adaar felt a smile slowly grow, and some tender piece of hope lit up in his heart.

He walked Dorian back to his room, seeing him safely inside, and went to his own feeling happier than he had in months.

oOo

Maker-taken semi-tragic hero types.

Fairbanks was a menace to Adaar's sensibilities, rubbed him entirely the wrong way for no real reason, and was abominably good in bed.

“I hate you,” Adaar said companionably as they both collapsed on the bed.

“I'm grateful you exist,” Fairbanks said, patting his chest in a consoling way. “And I hate me too, it's all right.”

“I don't even have a _reason_ ,” Adaar complained, rolling over and bracing his head on his hand and petting through Fairbanks hair. He went limp, all but purring as Adaar scratched at his scalp. “I just really don't find you appealing as a person. But damn.”

“Mmmm.”

“I mean.”

“ _Mmmmmm_.”

“Right?”

“Have you always had that sort of stamina, or is this a weird mark thing?” Fairbanks asked after the third round, sprawled over his chest and unwilling to move. Adaar shook his head, and then shook it again to get rid of the entirely destroyed pillow caught on it.

“Always. One good thing about being this stupidly big.”

Fairbanks frowned, managing to lift his head to look at him. “Here now, don't speak like that. You're a good leader and a better man, and anyone would be lucky to have you.”

Adaar felt oddly touched. “Thank you, I suppose.”

“That's right,” Fairbanks said sternly, then let his head fall back down. “Scratch my back.”

“I already did.”

“Fuck you.”

“Did that too.”

oOo

And then came Halamshiral. It was a mess, and horrible, and by the end of it Adaar wanted nothing more than to go and hide forever. But he had other responsibilities, so he played nice until he could sneak out the door and hide himself on a balcony. He buried his face in his hands, leaning on the parapet, and wanted desperately to go home. He missed his kith, and he missed his family, and he missed having people who would hug him and punch his arm and call him “little one” even when he was 28. He missed his family so much it hurt, but he didn't even dare breathe word that he had any in case someone decided to hurt them.

Soft footsteps made his ears twitch, and he looked up as Dorian touched his shoulder.

“You survived,” he said gently, and Adaar nodded.

“And I hated every minute.” 

Dorian smiled, leaning beside him. “So did I. Orlesians are not my favorite cup of wine.”

“I agree completely,” Adaar muttered, leaning against him and lowering his head again.

Dorian leaned back, gently knocking their heads together. “And the only person you got to dance with was Florianne. I'm certain _that_ was just absolutely delightful.”

“Ugh, don't remind me,” he shuddered, smiling. “She was frightening.”

They sat in silence for a moment before Dorian cleared his throat and straightened up. Adaar bit back his disappointment that he was leaving, only to be stunned when Dorian offered him his hand.

“What?” he asked, uncertain.

Dorian looked nervous for the first time Adaar had met him. “If I may, Kaaris, I'd... I'd like to ask you to dance.”

Adaar's heart leapt, and he straightened up. He took Dorian's hand carefully, almost gingerly, half expecting it to be a joke. “You did mean me, right?”

Dorian's smile was tinged with relief. “You are that only one here named Kaaris, correct?”

“Well, yes,” he said, a bit of a smile starting.

“Good.” Dorian bent, kissing his knuckles, and Adaar turned purple as his cheeks flushed. “Then shall we dance?” He put on the courtly airs of one of the Orlesian's inside, wiggling his eyebrows, and Adaar laughed. He pulled Dorian in with ease, watching his eyes go wide as he spun him and brought them into position.

“But good ser,” he said, smiling down as the music inside became a waltz, “we've only just been introduced, and I do not know you well. What _will_ the chaperones think?”

Dorian looked utterly dazzled, melting into his arms and following without a trace of hesitation. He was as graceful here as he was in battle, and Adaar was so hopelessly smitten. “I suspect that they'll think whatever they want, but I know what I would like them to think.”

“And what,” Adaar asked, spinning him neatly and beginning the complicated circle spins and cross steps that made up the most intricate part of the Montsimmard waltz, “would that be, my lord?”

Dorian followed him perfectly, feet flicking in the complex pattern and lifting at exactly the right moment for Adaar to turn them both and bring them back to the starting position. “I would hope that they might think that we were two intelligent and extremely handsome young men, who would later be occupied together in a most intimate manner.”

Adaar spun and dipped him just as the fireworks began going off, and when he lifted him back up he pulled Dorian into a kiss. Dorian's arms slid around his neck, holding him there.

“I,” Kaaris said, pulling back with a smile, “would like that very much.”

oOo

“You should know,” Kaaris said as he lazily traced patterns on Dorian's chest, “Isa and I both have terrible crushes on you.”

Dorian made a face, looking over at him. “I was very upset that you slept with him,” he admitted. “That's why I was crying in the great hall.”

“Aww, love.” Kaaris kissed his temple. “If it makes you feel better, we both said your name when we came.”

“.............I'm both incredibly flattered and very embarrassed.”

Kaaris kissed him with great relish, and Dorian laughed against his lips.

“Did you know,” Dorian murmured, pressing tiny kisses up against each cheek, “that when I first saw you I was terribly smitten? Here you were, this great handsome man in your lovely armor, huge sword on your back, looking like every dramatic fantasy I'd ever had about some dashing man that could come and sweep me off my feet. I about swooned at the sight of you. And honestly, I've never stopped feeling those lovely little butterflies when I look at you.”

Kaaris pulled back, surprised. “Even with the scars, and the hair and the... the everything?”

Dorian cupped his face, smiling. “Kaaris, you're incredibly handsome. Anyone who says otherwise is clearly lying.”

Kaaris blinked a few times to clear his suddenly watery eyes, and pulled Dorian back in for a long kiss.

“I love you,” he said, and Dorian beamed at him.

“I love you too.”


End file.
